The Center of the Compass
by Milk of Awesomeness
Summary: Five young teenagers from different districts are sent to the arena. At least four of them won't come back. Unfortunately, they didn't think about that when they became allies. Meanwhile, other kids in the arena focus on getting home and their families back home suffer. These are the stories of the tributes of the 53rd Hunger Games. Hunger Games AU.
1. Reaping District 1

**July 10th, Morning of the 53rd Reaping,**

 **11:00 AM District 1**

 **Vargas (I) Household**

* * *

Feliciano Vargas stretched as he woke up in his house in District 1. He looked at the clock. It said that it was eleven, about the time when most people from District 1 woke up on a reaping day. It was a national holiday, and District 1 was one of those districts that were much more better off when it game to the Games, having one of the highest victor rates in the whole nation.

Either way, Feliciano was still scared. Last year, his best friend had been killed in the games by the male from 10 and ever since seeing that, the thirteen-year-old had nightmares almost every night. He sobbed into his bed. He had told him not to go, hadn't he? Not to volunteer. But he had. Had he not liked Feliciano? Is that why he had left? To get away from him?

He sighed, realizing that he needed to actually get up now. He yawned, stretching a second time as he crawled out of the bed. He walked downstairs, seeing his father who was with his mother in the kitchen, talking quietly.

His father was an ex-peacekeeper who had initially been stationed in District Eleven, before going to District One. He was long retired, though he was retired early and Feliciano had never gotten a reason why when he asked.

Feliciano ate breakfast with his family before going back upstairs to get ready, finding himself in a red suit. He brushed at his hair, scared for what was going to happen today. His twin sister Feliciana knocked onto his door, wearing a green dress that was probably custom designed specifically so that she could wear it that day.

He reached out to hug her, wanting the affection and comfort that she brought. The girl willingly fell into his arms. Sure, they were well-to-do and lived in the richest district, but fear on Reaping Day was a natural behaviour, right?

* * *

After the family of four ate lunch at about 1 PM, it was late enough that they could now head to the square to go to the reaping, though none of them seemed truly up to it. This was Feliciano's second reaping, and even with that in mind, it was no less scary for him than it was the year before.

He stood with the other thirteen year olds towards the back, waiting for his escort to call the names. The girl tribute was called, though he was too afraid to listen to her name. He looked up, seeing a pretty girl with her dark blonde hair tied up into a bun walk onto the stage. Whether she had volunteered or was reaped, the boy didn't catch that.

The woman who was the escort moved to the other ball to retrieve the male's name. Feliciano tried to tell himself that it wouldn't be him. After all, he was only entered twice, and surely, even if he did get picked someone would volunteer for him, someone who was better trained for the Games than he was. This was District One, after all. It was full of eighteen-year-old Careers who had trained their whole lives for their chance to volunteer and win to bring glory to their family and to District 1.

She pulled the name out of the ball. For a few seconds, all was silent as the name was plucked, held in her hand for what felt like an eternity. For some, they wanted in earnest for a name they knew could be someone they cared about. Others were scared that it could be them. And yet, in District One, there were still others who fantasied that the words read would enable them to win the games and live the way Victors do. Finally, she made her way to the microphone. "Feliciano Vargas." She called out looking around at the crowd as if to locate him. Feliciano shook, scared tremors going through his light frame.

He slowly made his way through the people in front of him until he had reached the steps, listening to and attempting to ignore his younger sister's loud sobs. After all, someone in this District of Career tributes was bound to volunteer for him, surely. He tried not to focus too badly on the situation. He would be safe soon, right? Someone was going to volunteer or this was all going to be a dream, he tried to tell himself.

The woman was in front of him asking for volunteers for him and the girl. Silence followed and he looked at the girl as if trying to discern her thoughts on it. Was he alone? Could he ally with her? Could he even trust her? He felt tears sliding down his cheeks and while the boy knew that he was supposed to stay strong so sponsors didn't see him as weak, he couldn't help it. The idea of going into the games was too scary.

He shook hands with the female tribute, who offered him a small, flirtatious smile that he hadn't been expecting. He blushed dark and turned bravely to the crowd of District One. Well, as bravely as he could muster.

Feliciano was escorted off of the stage along with the girl and taken to the same room that he had seen off his old best friend and secret crush. He sobbed quietly but tried not to do it too much. Otherwise, when his family came in he didn't think that he'd be able to stop.

Feliciana and his father walked in. Feliciano looked up at them, wondering where his mother was. She must not have been able to face it. To face him. He found himself pulled into the arms of his sister and then yanked into his father's arms. "Be strong, Feli." His father muttered. Easy for him to say. He was a former privileged Peacekeeper in the district that shines bright with diamonds and pearls throughout. Feliciano was a tribute. And he wasn't coming back.

Feliciano sighed when they left, resigned to waiting. He did have a lot of friends in his class and in the one ahead of him but none of them bothered to see him off. When the peacekeepers came to collect him for the train he stood up and allowed himself to be pulled into the car to take him to the train station, sniffling the whole way there.

* * *

 **These are all the intended tributes during the games so if you care who is from what district there you go**

 **Districts:**

 **Tributes from 1:**

 **Feliciano Vargas**

 **Fem!France (mentioned)**

 **Tributes from 2:**

 **2p! N. Italy (Will be referred to as Luciano)**

 **Belarus (Will be called Natalya)**

 **Tributes from 3:**

 **Kiku Honda**

 **Seychelles (mentioned)**

 **District 4:**

 **FEMALE (Name will not be said, but she may or may not randomly appear…. Just randomly)**

 **2p!England (mentioned)**

 **District 5:**

 **Gilbert Beilschmidt**

 **Czech Republic (Will be called Milada Novotná, will be mentioned)**

 **District 6:**

 **Mathias Køhler**

 **Nyo!Sweden (Will be mentioned)**

 **District 7:**

 **Ludwig Beitel(Germany)**

 **Lilli Zwingli**

 **District 8:**

 **Lithuania (mentioned)**

 **Elizabeta Héderváry**

 **District 9:**

 **China (mentioned)**

 **Ukraine (mentioned)**

 **District 10:**

 **Alfred Jones**

 **Madeleine Williams**

 **District 11:**

 **Lovino Vargas**

 **Nyo!Spain (Will be referred to as Antonia Fernandez in RP)**

 **District 12**

 **Random Person**

 **Random Person**


	2. Reapings 3, 6, and 10

**July 10th Morning of the 53rd Reaping**

 **9 AM, District 3**

 **Honda Household**

* * *

Kiku was normally up early almost every day in his seventeen years of living, a feat different than most kids in Three. District Three started school around eleven and went until five, then they worked in various assemblies and technological buildings that in hand with District Five powered the nation until late once they hit ten years old. Kiku didn't have to do that as his parents were wealthy, well-off. His dad was high up, an assembly operator and Capitol informant for the Peacekeepers of District Three.

At nineteen, the usual age of working for district Three merchants, he was supposed to take over his father's job as the eldest and only son of the couple. His mother stayed at home to watch and take care of him, but they made plenty enough money as it was.

A few hours later they were on their way to the reaping. Kiku knew that his parents were worried for him, knowing that he also had an equal chance of being picked just like all of other kids—assuming that they didn't take out tesserae.

At two, the escort stood up, called the girl's name. A twelve-year-old named Michelle Sullivan, a blue dress around her childish figure stepped on to the stage. Kiku's face was mostly emotionless, feeling pity for the young girl, her hair pulled into two pigtails and expression scared. He had seen her around school and she was always smiling and happy.

They were powerless against the Capitol, he knew. What was the point of these games anyway? The escort made his way to the other bowl and quickly pulled out a name. "And the male tribute is… Kiku Honda."

He froze for a few seconds before stepping up onto the stage, taking his place next to the girl. Even for a boy at seventeen, Kiku was still not much taller than the twelve-year-old he was looking at. She gave him a small smile that he figured was supposed to be reassuring but didn't do very good in helping him. Locking his emotions and numbing them, he reached to shake her hand and then turned to face the crowd.

He sighed, letting the escort praise their bravery one last time before following a Peacekeeper to the room that he would tell his parents his last goodbyes—because who was he kidding? He would never survive these games. Though he would be prepared to fight if he had to in order to come back home.

* * *

 **July 10th, Morning of the 53rd Reaping**

 **10: 30 AM, District 6**

 **Oxenstierna Household**

* * *

Mathias was typically a very loud and egotistical 18-year-old male, the second-tallest of a rather confusing house of five. First, there was his cousin Berwald Oxenstierna, his fiancé Tino, and then Emil, the younger brother of Mathias' boyfriend, Lukas Sørensen , the last of the bunch. Not today however, which was the only good thing about the day for the rest of the family, as Mathias never shut up.

Mathias was currently sitting at the head of the dinner table, slowly eating his breakfast with the other four blonde people that were in the room. Normally, he or Lukas would poke the other in annoyance or to get the other's attention, or Lukas would be over a Emil, who would normally shove him away. Today, the five sat almost still, only moving to eat or ask someone a question. It was a dark day in their house, for obvious reasons. Mathias at 18 and Emil at 16 were the only ones who were still eligible for the reaping, and frankly it worried Lukas the most, which Mathias knew. He could lose both him and Emil within the next few years, and the thought of Lukas having to go through that scared the shit out of Mathias.

The family remained silent, none of them wishing to be the first one to speak, all of them afraid to break the tense atmosphere in the room, even after they had made it to the square of District 6, waiting anxiously for the names to be drawn so they could go back home and attempt to live a normal life, as if two kids from their district were not about to die in a week.

The girl, who was 18 just as he was, a tall blonde one with an almost expressionless face was called. She reminded him a bit of Berwald, but he shook it off, deciding that fact didn't matter, even though it was chilling. He remembered being a kid, only eleven, so scared that his cousin was going to be drawn. He stood still, looking at his friends near him. While Mathias and the people he hung out with were typically loud and rambunctious, none of them were going to try anything here. Everyone was scared, even if they refused to admit it.

"And the male tribute this year is…. Mathias Køhler." He froze. Wait…. was that his name. He blinked and stepped up to join the girl, who was only a few inches shorter than he was. He shook hands with her, eyes wide, attempting to find either Lukas or Berwald in the crowd to calm himself. No, he had to look confident. He flashed a fake grin.

* * *

 **July 10th, Morning of the 53rd reaping**

 **8: 30 AM, District 10**

 **Bonnefoy Household**

* * *

Alfred Jones didn't mind being from a meat grinding family in the poorer side of District 10. They were the ones who had jobs designated to making the meat products for the Capitol. He and his two half- siblings, the twins Matthew and Madeleine, had helped their father for all their lives with this job. Alfred wouldn't have minded continuing in that class of working.

Then his cousin Francis had won the games last year and invited the three other kids to stay with him in his house in the Victor's Village. The three kids, Alfred being the oldest at 16, had agreed, Alfred mostly at the prospect of being able to eat cow meat instead of just making it.

Alfred sighed, knowing that he needed to get up. His boyfriend, Arthur, was coming over in a bit, but he didn't really want to. It was warm under the blankets, and under the blankets he didn't have to deal with the fact that today was the reaping. Finally, he sighed and crawled out from under his covers and opened his door, finding an irritated Arthur about to knock on it. He grinned at him and the other rolled his green eyes.

"Sleeping again, love?" He asked in irritation, though he wasn't that mad. Anyone could tell that, seriously. Alfred smiled sheepishly at him and Arthur gave him a kiss, a tradition they did on Reaping days ever since they started two years before. Arthur was now eighteen. This was his last year and Alfred was more married for him, for Matthew, for Madeleine, than he was for himself.

Alfred had been worried that Francis would be the victor from 10 picked to mentor this year. He hadn't seemed himself since the reaping the year before, and Alfred, despite being the densest of the whole group, could easily tell that something was different, and not in a good way. He didn't want him near the Capitol ever again. Luckily, it didn't seem that he had been picked

The group made their way over to the town square and dropped Matthew and Madeleine off at the fourteen section before Arthur and Alfred walked to the sixteen section. The two gave each other another hug and a kiss before they separated. Arthur walked to the front of the section to stand with the other eighteen-year-olds, and Alfred felt fearful that one of them would be the person chosen to compete as a tribute.

And what of these other families? It was disgusting how these games worked. Killing innocent teenagers—and twelve-year-olds in some cases—for no other reason than to teach them a lesson for what a bunch of people did more than fifty years ago. Whoever got chosen today, Alfred knew that there was at least 23 families who were going to be devastated.

Alfred tuned out their escort until she said that she was drawing the girl name. It was deadly silent for a bit. Of course it was, District 10 was one of the poorest districts. Anyone who would be going was guaranteed to come back a corpse. And sometimes not even that much was left. Francis, though he had won the year before, was an exception.

The lady pulled out a slip of paper from the girl's ball. "Madeleine Williams!" Alfred's heart stopped. His half-sister…. Matthew was on the other side of the girl and the peacekeeper nearby had to forcefully separate the two.

Soon, the lady walked over to the guy's bowl and called out a random name which she had barely finished reading when Alfred opened his mouth to scream the words that would change his fate. "I volunteer!"

* * *

 **I'm planning four more chapters of reapings tbh.**

 **The other reapings  
District 5 **

**District 7  
District 8  
District 11  
Those will be separated the way that Feliciano's was **


	3. Reaping District 5

**July 10th, Morning of the 53rd Reaping,**

 **6 AM, District 5**

 **Beilschmidt Household**

* * *

Gilbert Beilschmidt was the awesomest person in District 5. Well, no. He wasn't, but he claimed to be. He made his way out of bed after letting his red-shaded eyes adjust to the dim light coming into his room, though it was way too early for most people to be up. His family was somewhat well-to-do, merchants that owned their own electronics shop that was under their upstairs apartment that was their home.

Even so, the seventeen-year-old only had his name in 6 times, never having to take out tesserae. He felt lucky that he was born into such an awesome life that he didn't have to worry as badly as those who were of the lower classes, those that worked the District 5 power plants.

He put on the nicest clothes that he owned—which, despite the fact that he was rich, weren't the best. Gilbert hated "aristocratic" anything. Aristocratic clothes, behaviour, his neighbour. He made his way downstairs after dressing to help his dad with the shop, the only child and heir to the family business.

The albino walked into the store below their house. They always opened as soon as the reaping was over. Gilbert was certain that even if he was the child reaped that they would still stay open. Business waits for no man, no excuses allowed. At least that's how Gilbert's father thought. Sure, he'd never been in the situation before, but Gilbert knew that's exactly what would happen. His father didn't even think much of him, his heir and only son.

Gilbert helped his father set up for the day. There wasn't a lot to do honestly. All he had to do was reclean whatever he had cleaned the day before, and Gilbert didn't mind that. Some people thought that it was tedious and needless the way that the Beilschmidt's cleaned over and over again, though none of them—Gilbert included—disliked the work. Cleaning was fun to him, and the hard work of taking care of the shop was cool as well, though it offered Gilbert very little time to goof off with his friends, which he figured was the only real downside.

Gilbert finished with helping with the store, ate some breakfast, and then went to feed his bird, who he had affectionate named Gilbird, after himself. He had saved the small yellow chick from a peacekeeper who had knocked it into a puddle. He gave the bird a few quick pets before pulling his hand back, the bird chirping as he did so.

There wasn't a lot for him to do after he finished some more chores, having nowhere to go. None of the other merchant shops in District Twelve were open on the day of the Reaping. Why should they be? The Reaping was supposed to be considered a celebration of peace and prosperity. To Gilbert is was a death sentence for all involved, a public execution for the crimes of his ancestors. Either way, most shops closed that day, excluding the bakery and his Dad's shop.

With that in mind, Gilbert messed around with one of the televisions that they kept in the store and turned it on, turning to some stupid show of the Capitol's that they made about some couple and their kids. He rolled his eyes, deciding to watch to make fun of them.

At twelve, he went to one of his friend's houses to eat lunch before heading out to the square, feeling the anxiety start to build in his chest. He was albino, which meant he burned quicker in the sun than most people, and was more sensitive to it as well. It was one of the reasons that he preferred staying indoors. If he were reaped, it would be a bigger nightmare for him than many of the others.

As the man who was the District Five escort pulled the female name from the Reaping Ball, the District Five crowd fell silent. "Milada Novotná." He looked over at the girl who was in the process of walking up the steps to her almost certain death. She looked about 14 years old, with short brown stringy hair. He judged her to be one of the poorer people in the district, though he knew he couldn't ever be sure.

The man moved to the other ball and the seventeen-year-old sucked in a breath. All of his friends were male and so was he. This was the ball that mattered to him the most. A name was called over the microphone and he almost missed it. He wished that he actually had.

"Gilbert Beilschmidt." He looked around at his friends to see if he'd actually heard his own name. Was this a nightmare? Or was it real? The looks he received told him everything that he needed to know. He stepped towards the stage and walked up, attempting to make his face into his typical cocky grin, even know that he knew he wasn't going to make it to 18 or take over the store like he had wanted to. He was going to die. No, he was going to fight, he swore.

He shook hands with the girl before letting the peacekeepers usher him off the stage. Gilbert was thrust into a room to await his visitors. He figured his parents and friends would definitely want to see him off, but then none of them came, not even his mother. He tried not to be upset. After all, all of them probably thought this would be the last time that they saw him. They probably didn't want to have to tell his awesomeness goodbye, he tried to tell himself.

He leaned back into the couch that was offered to him in this room. Even the damn peacekeepers guarding the door probably thought he was pathetic, a loser! He couldn't accept that. However, sure enough the boy felt tears coming on, prickling at his ruby eyes. Despite not wanting them to, especially in front of the nation, they fell anyway and were still falling when he was retrieved by a Peacekeeper coming in to lead him to the train. He would never be truly awesome.


	4. Reaping District 7

**July 10th, Morning of the 53rd Reaping,**

 **6 AM, District 7**

 **Beitel Household**

* * *

Ludwig was a hard working teenager in District 7 who lived with only his grandfather on the poor side of town. He had taken out tesserae the past few years and now, at sixteen, here was the morning of his fifth reaping. He woke up, getting ready to go chop wood. This wasn't a holiday for District 7 by any means. District 7 didn't get the day off until after the reaping. While kids got out of school they had to work the day with the adults. Before the Reaping on these days, all people over ten years old excluding 12 year olds out of mercy were forced to work until noon. On reaping days, they were allowed to take home half of the timber that they produced individually. Ludwig didn't bring home much, the sole head of his household. His grandfather was too bed-ridden to do much. Ludwig was just glad that while he himself had been a sickly child, that he wasn't now as a teenager.

Ludwig left his house, finding his next door neighbours Basch and Ayleen Zwingli—brother and sister, Ayleen being about his own age—coming out of their own house. When Ludwig was young, it was the two of them who did most of the work around the house in Ludwig's younger days when he was a frail child. It had been the siblings who had tended to Ludwig while he had been sick, and as his grandfather got older, him as well.

Ayleen, despite being the same age as him, was much smaller than most of the kids in their District who were older than fourteen, both male and female. She was so small and fragile that even the peacekeepers had hesitation putting her to work in the lumber field. In fact, despite her coming from a poor lumber family in District Seven the peacekeepers in charge of the mill have her being trained by the District Seven apothecary to take care of the injured men and women—some of them, many of them children younger than her—who had been working in the mill and out in the forest.

It was a good job and there was no doubt in Ludwig's mind that she had the best chance of getting out of the slum than the rest of them did. A better chance of her children not having to take out tesserae than anyone else, something that should be envied and likely was by the people who worked the area.

Ludwig headed to the forest. There was a wall built dividing the woods used for their district's industry and the woods that were the outskirts of their district, a forbidden area that no one was allowed to go into. The wall was heavily guarded by Peacekeepers who would swiftly shoot and kill anyone who would dare to go near it. Only the most trusted of citizens in Seven were meant to take the trees that were on the edge of it and even these people were greatly scrutinized.

He stayed at work for a few hours before they let them out to get ready for the reaping. After returning home, he put on his only suit that he had only for this particular day. He headed out to go to the Square where the reaping would be at two, helping his grandfather walk over there before passing him off to Basch. Attendance for all Citizens of Seven regardless of age was required and failure to comply was punishable by death, even public execution at times.

He and Ayleen walked together to the sixteen section. The small girl took his hand into her own and kissed it softly, like a sister comforting a brother. That's what she was to him. She had been there since he was born and the two had grown up in the same class so she may as well be. "Are you okay?" He asked her tenderly.

She looked up at him with those light green eyes, a sense of innocence still held within them. "Yes. Are you okay?" She asked him, sounding concerned and a bit frightened.

Ludwig knew what she was really asking. "I haven't been sick in years." He said to her, a soft look on his face. She nodded, not seeming very convinced, though Ludwig couldn't blame her. He had almost died as a child because of how sickly he had been.

Ayleen moved to speak to a young girl that she had saved the life of the year before, stepping a few people away in the Sixteen section. Ludwig waited for the escort to stick their hand into the ball after the routine speech was given by the mayor. Soon, the minute came. The Capitol woman reached down into the ball. Ludwig stared anxiously at the slip of paper that held the name of the girl tribute.

"Ayleen Zwingli!" His face went pale. No, not her. Ayleen looked over at him to catch his eye, fear in her face as she made her way out of the section and towards the stage. Ludwig knew almost immediately that she was heading to her death. She was too small, too innocent.

"And the boy tribute this year is…. Ludwig Beitel." He was still for a few seconds before his brain began to work properly. He made his face as stoic as he could, knowing how important sponsors were and made his way up the steps, only to be tackled into a tight hug by the girl that he had grown up with. She began crying despite the cameras that would have her pegged as a weakling. He shoved her off gently, managing to hold it together. Ludwig had always been good at that, Basch too. His gaze softened slightly looking at her, letting her know without words that all was fine, even though it wasn't and wouldn't be. No one would volunteer for them. Basch was too old and no matter how many people adored Ayleen they would never dare to volunteer for her.

He knew that Basch would gladly take care of his grandfather for him, but he still worried. He knew that he was going to die, either from a Career tribute, trying to protect Ayleen, or worse, the recurring sickness from when he was a kid. That wouldn't happen, he reminded himself. He hadn't had an issue with that in years. Still, it was a possibility and he had only one remaining family member. The idea that that he could die and leave his ailing grandfather more or less alone was terrifying to say the least.


	5. Reaping 8

**July 10th, Morning of the 53rd Reaping,**

 **7 AM District 8**

 **Héderváry Household**

* * *

Elizabeta Héderváry was only seventeen years old. Her birthday was only a month before, sure, but she was still seventeen. She had just woken up, knowing that today was the Reaping and they didn't have school. She had been eligible since she was twelve and it was no less harder to deal with now. Between her and her best friend Roderich and the young girl down the street that both took care of for the ailing mother, she had all but had her fair share of worry on this day and it had not gotten any better in the past four years.

Elizabeta, after bathing in some of boiled water that her mother had set out for her, went to put on the outfit that she was to wear. She slid it on. It was a simple dark green dress, nothing special. District 8 may have been the textile industry but it in no way had any. It was unfair. She sighed, smoothing out her hair and reached for the necklace that Roderich had given her on her twelfth birthday.

Elizabeta heard talking in the other room. The girl raised an eyebrow and after sliding her shoes on, walked over the sitting room, seeing that the father of the sick woman and his daughter had come over. The girl, Fye Richwald, had her hair pulled back, her black dress falling to her knees. She was only twelve. Elizabeta assumed that she was supposed to take her to the reaping and calm her. Of course the father wouldn't bother. He was too busy being a drunkard.

Elizabeta sighed when the girl was let in, not because she didn't like her, but because of the girl's situation. She didn't deserve the parents that she had. She looked over at Fye as she ate some of the food that Elizabeta's mother had given her. She was malnourished and if it wasn't for Elizabeta and Roderich's families the girl didn't think that Fye would have made it to reaping age.

Elizabeta reached for a plate of food set aside for herself and ate quickly. Her mother only made breakfast a few times a year. They were poor. Elizabeta had been taking out tesserae since her father had died when she thirteen. Now, her mother only made breakfast on special occasions. The reaping was one of those days. By the time lunch rolled around, the girl was typically unable to eat on reaping days so she stuffed her face at breakfast.

Elizabeta made her way out of the door at twelve with the girl on her side. The girl was much more confident than Elizabeta would have expected her to be on her first reaping. She actually ate lunch and didn't flip out or cry once. Elizabeta admired the girl's strength, though she couldn't help but wonder if that crazy household had anything to do with it. She hoped not.

The girl headed over to Roderich's with Fye. She wanted to spend at least some time with her best friend before the reaping. She could hear the soft sounds of the male hitting keys on his family's piano and she smiled softly, humming quietly to the tune. Roderich's mother used to belong to a merchant class who owned their own piano—distract 8 was big on musical entertainment despite being so poor—but then moved both the piano and herself in with Roderich's father when they got married. Her son was taught properly, more properly than anyone else in their side of the town was, at least.

Elizabeta knocked and the music stopped. Soon, the door opened and revealed her closest friend, dressed up in district Eight merchant garb, presents from his now deceased grandparents. It made Elizabeta jealous, how his family could play it up and pretend to be rich when Roderich's family took out as much tesserae as they were allowed and never went to the market even when they could unless they absolutely had too. In fact, the three of them lived mostly on what they got from Roderich's tesserae rations, tips from their piano playing, and the milk from the old goat that they owned.

Roderich looked down at Fye who smiled slightly at him. He gave her a tender look before looking back at Elizabeta, brushing off some invisible dust from his clothes. Elizabeta had never understood his fixation on being as neat as possible. It made no sense to her.

She stayed over at Roderich's for an hour before the three headed over to the town square. The reaping wouldn't start until two. After the two seventeen year olds dropped the young girl off at her section they made their way to the seventeen year old area. Elizabeta looked up at the woman who was the escort.

The woman had amber shaded hair piled up on top of her head, an intricate dress showing off her figure, covered in designs of butterflies and flowers, displaying the beauty of the cloth made by District 8 to the very people who made but must not touch it lest they get shot.

Elizabeta couldn't help but feel bitter as she compared the woman to herself. They made the clothes but these people were the only ones allowed to use them. She wondered if the other districts were like that as well. Probably.

The woman reached into the bowl with violet-shaded fingernails and pulled out a name, causing Elizabeta's heart to stiffen and ached, begging for it not to be Fye, a silent plea to protect the young girl. "Elizabeta Héderváry!" The woman announced. Elizabeta had never been so afraid in her life, but she attempted not to let it show, making her face emotionless as she walked up the steps.

She only had enough time to wish for Roderich's safety, that the name that their escort was pulling out was any name but his when the woman made her way back to the microphone with the male tribute's name in hand. "Toris Laurinaitis." She called out. A fourteen-year-old lean boy with shoulder-length brown hair made his way up. He was trembling, causing Elizabeta to stiffen more. She tried not to show empathy to his emotions. There was time to break down later, during the games when she already had sponsors and a fighting chance. Ah, who was she kidding. She'd die before anyone decided that she was worth it. She would try however. For Fye.

* * *

 **Fye Richwald is nyo!HRE**


	6. Reaping 11

**July 10th, Morning of the 53rd Reaping,**

 **11 AM District 11**

 **Vargas (II)Household**

* * *

15-year-old Lovino Vargas took a bite of the tomato that came from his rations for the day, the allotted food that the workers in the orchards and out in the field received for lunch. Each was allowed to pick one specific fruit or vegetable when they started working and one grain when they started working-typically as young as four-and that would be their daily rations for any lunch periods that they worked through. Excluding the harvest and the reaping, each person was only given thirty minutes for each meal break. During the harvest and the reaping, that upped to forty-five minutes,

He turned thoughtfully to the girl on the other side of him and offered her his partially eaten tomato politely, though she already had her own, munching on it with a smile while watching a small baby turtle walk past the two. The male had never understood her thing with them, though 17-year-old Isabel Fernández had never minded when he just rolled his eyes with a hint of a smile when she started naming them. The turtles seemed to like the area of the orchard that they two were assigned to, constantly hanging around.

"Damn bastards," he mumbled under his breath, looking over at some of the peacekeepers who were harassing the people who had made it to receive their rations late.

Isabel chided him. "Now, now, Lovi. Be nice." She said. He sighed and laid his head in her lap, all but worn out under the hot, blazing sun, even under the hat that he had to wear to shield his eyes. She pet his hair.

The two had been best friends for their whole lives and next door neighbours on top of that. They knew everything there was to know about each other. Lovino hated the fact that they had the same reaping year, feared going into the games with her. If he were to, he wouldn't ally with her either. They had a pact. It would be better for the two of them in the long run. They wouldn't have to see the other die, and they were even less likely to be the last two standing that way.

In District Eleven, the population was so large that only half of the population between 12-18 were selected for the reaping every year. Lovino's group took odd years, such as this one. Last year, he was not eligible at all, despite being fourteen. This year was his year. Someone would think that District Eleven was lucky, it's youth only having to worry about half the reapings that everyone else did, but the District was one of the poorest, eliminating the advantage and leveling the field greatly. In fact, Lovino had taken out a considerate amount of tesserae himself, every year since he was twelve for the four members of his family. His mother, stepfather, himself, and his grandfather.

Lovino hated the system. It wasn't fair. Punished for something that they hadn't even been involved in, and at such young ages. The ones born into a poor family suffering as their only form of help from anyone was either a kind person who you owed for life, who you would never stop being grateful towards, or the tesserae, a risk that they shouldn't even half to take, had Panem been doing it's duty to its citizens right.

He sighed, grateful that kids like himself and Isabel had the opportunity to go home after lunch to get ready for the reaping. Parents of kids that were eligible for that year got the day off after lunch as well. Everyone else who worked the fields were meant to keep harvesting. Shopkeepers and well-to-do merchants closed at noon and were "encouraged" to attend the reaping.

Lovino felt as if the years where it wasn't his year were the worst. Not knowing until the next day, too late to say goodbye during their allotted time, never able to give one last hug or kiss to a loved one, having to watch their death on TV with those last words still on your lips. For lack of better words, it was awful, and he didn't even have to know first hand. Just the idea of never getting to say goodbye to his cousin Romeo back when he was reaped two years ago scared him to death. At least it was Lovino's year. His cousin… only twelve. He tried to shove the memory down.

After finishing their small meal, he said a small goodbye to Isabel, pulling her into a close embrace. Gosh, he didn't know what he would do if she were reaped. She was his only friend, the only person that he felt really loved him, including his own family. "You'll be okay Lovi." She muttered, patting his back with a grim smile. He couldn't bring himself to believe her, and she had to know that.

Upon entering his house, he found himself soon scolded by his stepfather for taking too long. He sighed and headed to his room after hurling some insults at the man that would probably get him punished once he got home from the reaping. _If_ he got home.

He had never met his actual father, though there were plenty of rumors spread around the school as to who his father was. That his mother had been a pregnant teenager and he had died in the Games one year, that he had been an upper class merchant his mother had an affair with, that he had been a peacekeeper. All Lovino knew was that he had the surname Vargas and had left him alone with this man with only his mother and her father for protection. Not that it was much in regards of that. His mother didn't care and his grandfather was too busy trying to charm young women to pay attention. He was surprisingly young looking and still charming so it actually worked well, or at least better than some would think.

Lovino walked in, seeing that someone had set aside some clothes for him to where at the reaping. He slid them on quickly and headed to the town square with a sigh and walked into the area for the kids who were his age after checking in. He was terrified. And he knew that the other fifteen year olds around him likely were as well.

Even with the devision of years that District Eleven had the square was still too small to hold the amount of people in it now. By the time the reaping actually started at two with the Treaty of Treason being read it was so claustrophobic that Lovino felt like he couldn't breathe, even as he looked up at his escort, Manon Vermeulen, a young woman who by Capitol standards actually looked blonde curls paired with bright green eyes, no trace of unnatural Capitol extravagance. It was gratifying.

She reached into the ball and pulled out a name for the girls. As she walked back to the bowl, Lovino found himself biting down hard on his lip in anticipation. "Isabel Fernández!" Lovino almost screamed as he saw his friend step forward, a frown on her face but no other sort of emotion. He tried to catch her eye as she walked up the steps.

The woman on the stage, Manon, didn't seem to pay Isabel much mind as she headed to pull out the boy's name. Lovino was so in shock that he almost missed the name. His own. He knew that he looked scared when he stepped onto the stage. While he did curse a lot, Lovino was also cowardly, not to mention he was going in with his own friend out of all people. His best friend. Isabel's dark emerald eyes glanced at him sadly as they shook hands like the custom said. Lovino knew that he was never going to make out of the arena alive.

* * *

 **Just some things to clear up after this chapter**

 **1\. Okay, both Spain and nyo Spain will be in this story, and Spain will be Antonio Carriedo whereas Isabel is Isabel Fernandez so that they will have different surnames. I would have kept one of them as *name* Fernandez Carriedo but I don't think that Panem has the thing about surnames as Hispanic nations do so I split the two surnames between the two. Makes less work for me than having to come up with a new last name for one of them tbh.**

 **2\. You'll see Spain later. Yes, he'll have some moments with Lovi too.**

 **3\. Manon is Belgium**

 **4\. Its not yet midnight so it's still March 17** **th** **so happy birthday to le narrator (Lovi)**


	7. The Reaping Recaps

**July Tenth, Afternoon of the 53rd Reaping**

 **3 PM, District One Tribute Train**

* * *

Feliciano hated being from District One. His escort and his mentor had literally dragged him almost as soon as he had gotten to the train over to see the recaps of the reapings, where he realised that he looked like a complete coward compared to most of the people from District 1. Feliciano looked down into the bowl of pasta that he had received, terrified. He wasn't going to get any sponsors. He was going to die. The tributes from Two, the girl, Natalya and the boy, Luciano, shook him to the core. The girl from Three made him frown. She was too cute to die here. The boy from Five looked unusual, but not unnatural like the Capitol citizens. The boy from Seven sent him into a jolt of uncertainty, eyes widening. He looked so much like…. Feliciano shook his head to get rid of the tears. The girl from 8 was on the screen now. The tributes continued to go by as a blur of nameless faces to him until it reached the District 11 and he couldn't shake the feeling that he felt when he heard the male's last name. He shook his head, trying to steer clear of the thoughts. At least they'd be in the Capitol before the end of the day, unlike most of the outlying districts like 9, 10, 11, and 12.

* * *

 **July Tenth, Afternoon of the 53rd Reaping**

 **4:30 PM, District Five Tribute Train**

* * *

Gilbert rubbed his pale fingers along the silver cross that was around his neck as the reapings started up. He was stunned seeing the boy from one. Barely big enough to be eligible, especially by District One standards. He would never win. Oddly, the district was never short of volunteers in situations like this, but the boy remained. He frowned. Another odd thing was the small fourteen-year-old girl from Four. He frowned, not understanding how all the Career districts this year had such unthreatening tributes, barring Two. The boy from Seven interested him. Seemed trustworthy and strong. Might be a good ally, he thought. The girl from Eight looked fiery to him, and he found himself attracted to the girl on the stage, causing him to blush dark red. The only woman he bothered hanging around typically was his mother, but the other tribute almost instantly made him want to know her better. Shit. The other tributes didn't seem very interesting to look at.

* * *

 **July Tenth, Afternoon of the 53rd Reaping**

 **4 PM, District Seven Tribute Train**

* * *

Ludwig was stunned to say the least after that. Two small people from Career districts? He furrowed his blond eyebrows, blue eyes narrowed in suspicion. There had to be some reason why people like the girl from Four or the—admittedly cute—boy from one could be in for the running. Their district had to believe that those two kids had a chance, otherwise someone would have stepped forward, right? He tried to work it out in his head, coming up with nothing. He sighed, looking at the odd boy from Five. Looked like an idiot, cocky even. There didn't seem to be anyone of any potential in the group besides Ayleen, though the boy from Three's only bad point was his height from what he could see. Soon, the boy from Eleven was called, and Ludwig gave up. District Twelve was next up and they never had anyone interesting. At least, that was what the boy had told himself until he had seen the boy from Eleven.

He had an olive tone and darker hair, but he looked quite similar to the male from One. A bit older as well, though oddly he seemed to be not that much taller. The boy from One clearly would overshoot him in height when they both grew up. _If they had been able too,_ he corrected himself. Shame. Both boys were quite adorable, the younger cute sort of like a puppy, the older handsome, attractive. Also a shame that there was no one he could ally with, considering the pact that Ayleen had forced him into with that worried smile. He felt guilty, having told Basch one thing and his sister another. But she had given him those eyes…

* * *

 **July Tenth, Evening of the 53rd Reaping**

 **6 PM, District Eight Tribute Train**

* * *

Elizabeta leaned back, watching the reaping. She felt bad for the crying boy from One, but another part of her believed that it was just a front of sorts. Same with the small child from Four. Either way, whether they be truly afraid or just faking it, the reminder that her fellow tributes were only children did not sit well with her, Career District or not. The boy from Five, with his unusual appearance and cocky attitude granted a nice reprieve. The small girl from seven seemed nice. The boy from Ten seemed so brave to her. She found herself envious of him. She wished that she could be that brave as well. She sighed, before turning to look at Toris, the male tribute, who was next to her. He had long brown hair that was just shy of his shoulders. Some people thought that he looked sort of feminine in stature, but Elizabeta, never one to judge by gender roles, hadn't noticed. What she did know about him was no secret around the district. That he had a crush on a Capitol pig. Oh well. Love was love, and Elizabeta was always an encouraging hand in trying to initiate it, though she had never had much luck with herself. She fingered the necklace that Roderich had given her. Not that the two had ever been anything more than friends.

* * *

 **July Tenth, Evening of the 53rd Reaping**

 **7 PM, District Eleven Tribute Train**

* * *

Lovino was fuming. It was normal for him, of course, to be angry at the world, and no one could blame the boy for throwing dishes that he had attendants bring him whilst on the train. He planned to ignore the recaps entirely. Who he was going up against didn't honestly matter. He was going to come out of these damn games dead as a doornail anyway, so frankly the other people in that arena, save for Isabel, didn't matter. Lovino munched on one of the tomatoes that had originally been on one of the plates. The food, something that was never wasted in somewhere like District Eleven where being emaciated was normal, was the only thing that had survived that massacre of utensils, now in a mess on his bed. It was when Manon made her way to personally tell him to come to the TV room and settle down, size up his opponents while she smiled what he supposed was meant to be a genuine expression that he had actually bothered walking out of his room on the train. He had always had a weakness for a kind and charming woman.

That's how he found himself where he was now, Isabel's head resting the crook of his neck, his own arm lazily wrapped around her, as if he was the older and taller one, rather than his friend. Their mentors and escorts raised their eyebrows at the close and easy relationship that the two had, though Lovino paid them no mind. On the screen, the boy's name was called, and just as Lovino was expecting someone to volunteer no one did, and he just blinked at the screen in shock when the name of the tribute came up. Surely, there wasn't that great of a chance of a tribute from another district having the surname Vargas? He frowned, unsettled, even more chilled when he realised that they didn't look that dissimilar. Take away the darker hair and darker skin that District Eleven kids normally had, and Lovino thought if the kid was put in front of him at any point that he may as well be looking straight into a mirror.

The boy from two was menacing, the girl not as much. The boy from Five just looked like an arrogant asshole. The boy from Six, super tall and idiotic, but sort of intimidating in an odd way, probably his height and wild look on his dumb face. The boy from Seven, complete bastard. The girl from Eight seemed kind, and he smiled slightly. Then there was himself and Isabel. Judging by the complete morons of an ally pool he had to choose from—hell, even the Career pack this year looked like a bunch of idiots, two sniveling short kids, one smiling and overly plight boy from Four—he was fucked with anyone who wasn't Isabel. And she couldn't ally with him! They had made a pact!


	8. Opening Ceremonies

**July 11th, 6 Days From The 53rd Annual Hunger Games  
5 PM, Remake Centre, Floor 11**

* * *

Lovino had lost track of Isabel almost immediately after they had arrived in the Capitol and stepped off of the train. She had been whisked away by her prep team. His own had come by to collect him not long after she had been taken away. He almost panicked when she was pulled away, though he knew that they couldn't harm her. They would have to wait for the actual games to do that.

He glanced around at his own prep team. All female ensemble of crazy hairdos that just looked silly to him. They injected some needle into his cheek as he let out loud howls and curses with an explanation that they didn't want him growing facial hair while in the arena. And if old Hunger Games told him anything, Isabel as a female was getting a much more extreme treatment of the kind. Lovino's prep team was just lucky they were all girls otherwise at least one of them would have ended up with Lovino's head shoved into their gut to shove them away from him.

After a quick trim of patches of hair that he didn't apparently need, he was good to go by their standards. "You're so lucky you're a male. Your District partner has to have a much harsher and longer treatment. District people are so barbaric, frankly. How they could live in such squalor! So unfortunate!" Lovino swore never to harm an unarmed woman, but he almost slapped her.

Luckily, they left before he actually could decide to, and he was left to wait for his stylist, some idiot named…. Fuck, he didn't bother to remember what the three female freaks had said to him, but he decided that it didn't matter. The man, he could picture him in his head already. Capitol hound with purple hair and green skin wearing nothing but a tiger striped loin. That seemed to be Capitol fashion from Lovino's point of view at least. As far as he could tell, Capitol fashion was looking as stupid as possible.

He was pleasantly surprised when a young man with tanned skin, a wide smile, and brown, wavy locks opened the door. "Lovino?" The man asked.

"Who else would I be, jackass?" The other man sighed, though he seemed stunned. It was clear that his stylist had not expected him to be so vulgar. Well, too bad.

"I don't know." He replied, reaching out a hand for the boy to shake. Lovino promptly ignored the insulting appendage, choosing instead to glower at him. The man sighed. "Hi, I'm Antonio."

"You don't look like an Antonio."

"What do I look like then?" His green eyes lit up in curiosity.

"A Bastard. What's your surname?"

"Carriedo?"

"Bastard Carriedo. I love it."

"Well you're not very cute, are you." He said with a frown.

"The fuck? Why would I want to be cute when you're prettying me up for slaughter you dumb idiot?"

To his dismay, Bastard didn't seem to have the proper reaction to that, letting out a laugh. Sick bastard. "I'm supposed to be prettying you up so that you don't get slaughtered. That's my job. To make people love you and want to give you sponsor gifts. Take off your robe for me will you?"

"Pervert."

"It's part of the job description."

"What? To stare at me naked or be a pervert?"

"When you put it that way it sounds like both." Bastard chuckled. Lovino tugged his robe closer to his body, a blush lighting up on his face. Bastard frowned. "Hey, I wasn't serious you know." He poked his shoulder. "I just have to know your body type and all that irrelevant stuff!"

"I don't trust you." Bastard sighed when he spoke, turning to the door, probably to find something to hold him down with and force it off or something. "…Fine, I'll take it off. Just no damn funny business."

Bastard chuckled. "Alright." He promised. "You can trust me, I promise."

"I'm holding you to that Bastard."

* * *

A few hours later, Lovino found himself in his outfit for the Opening Ceremonies. He glared at it. A tomato costume? Really? He looked so damn stupid in it! Across from him, Isabel was in a similar one, though she seemed to be actually enjoying it.

The kids from Twelve behind them in their own chariot were completely naked, covered head to toe in coal dust. Lovino averted his eyes out of respect. In front of him, the kids from Ten were dressed in plaid shirts with denim pants, with a cow bell around their necks. The girl was standing close to the boy, who was grinning widely and waving at the crowd. The girl shyly ducked her head into his shoulder.

In front of them, the kids from Nine, then Eight. It had always confused Lovino why District Eight had the most boring of costumes when their industry—costumes had to reflect the District—was textiles out of all things. Cloth. The stylists could go all out and they still would be following tradition. His eyes moved to District Seven. The boy was dressed as a muscular tree and with his stoic expression it seemed to work. The small girl looked more like a bush compared to him.

Lovino continued to watch them all, letting his hazel eyes hover over the many tributes until his eyes landed on the boy from One, dressed in a silk shirt encrusted with diamonds and simple black pants adorned with a bit of glitter that he could see even from where he was. Feliciano glanced back at him. He gave him a smile, though Lovino didn't return it.

As they were paraded around the City Circle, Lovino forced his mouth into a scowl, not looking at Isabel. She knew exactly how to get a smile out of him, and he didn't want to do that now. He wanted the Capitol to be held accountable for forcing himself, her, and all of the other kids around him into this. And if he smiled at any of the crowd, or pretended to be interested in the President's speech as he addressed his audience then he was no better than them. And he refused to be such.

Lovino jumped down from the chariot once it had come to a stop, not liking the reminder that he was being shown off to the crowd. Bastard and Another Bastard—Isabel's stylist, who he learned was Manon's brother Lars—came over to them to help them down, though by that point Lovino was already about halfway through his escape into the Training Centre, where he would be living for the next week. He had reached the door when he was yanked back by Bastard who just chuckled. "Don't go, Lovi."

"Don't fucking call me that!" He snapped as he went inside, pulling away from him. Bastard—oh who was he kidding, that wasn't a good enough insult for him—Jerk Bastard gave a pout, as if he hadn't expected that reaction. Lovino just chuckled as he went inside, an attendant gesturing to the number "11" on the elevator for him. He pressed it, annoyed. He hated everyone.


	9. Training-Day 1

**July 12th, 5 Days From The 53rd Annual Hunger Games**

 **8:30 AM, Training Centre, Floor 11**

* * *

Lovino wasn't sure why the hell people insisted on dressing him for something this stupid. He had just woken up in his rather uncomfortable bedroom in the Training Centre, on Floor Eleven, and Antonio had apparently set out clothes for him to wear in training. He rolled his eyes. Apparently, once someone becomes a Capital Play Toy they lose the ability to dress themself. The boy slid on the clothes offered for him anyway with a few grumbles.

Truthfully, he didn't want to go to training anyway. He was shorter than about a third of the girls and most of the boys, more than likely. Seeing the other, stronger tributes would just make it set in that he wasn't returning to District Eleven…. That Isobel wasn't returning to District Eleven.

His shirt was red, with a tomato across the chest outlined in a green shape that created the general contour. Isabel's looked the same, apparently. When he saw her at breakfast, he noticed that was true, barring the red gems that filled up the shape on her clothes. He rolled his eyes. Sure, he loved tomatoes, Isabel sure loved them too. But Bastard and Isabel's stylist—some woman named Chiara **(1)** —were clearly way more obsessed to the point of insanity. Though considering Lovino had once created a song strictly about tomatoes once when they were in the orchard, he couldn't really judge.

Manon was apparently supposed to be the one who would deliver them to the Training Centre at 10, though for now she seemed more involved in the waffles that she was eating. Lovino did not know the name of the food before. Every so often between bites she would tell stories about Lars, her older brother. Lovino pretended to be interested in the conversation, though he was more invested in the food presented before him. How was it that the Capitol had all of these luxurious foods and the citizens barely worked when the Districts were the complete opposite. Harsh work with no real reward in return. Why? Because it all went to the Capitol? It made him sick.

Lovino took bites of the tomato that was in front of him, wondering what he would be like if he had lived here. Above all reality, not caring about anything but parties and clothes. He was nauseous just thinking about it. Himself as one of these oblivious assholes? Hell, starving to death slowly back home sounded much more preferable.

Not that he wanted to, but it sure beat sitting around advocating the deaths of innocent children for fun, not even because you're sadistic, but because it was expected, a form of entertainment given to the Capitol at the cost of the Districts, like everything else in Panem. Sick bastards. Lovino wanted to kill them all, the ones who were higher up the food chain. Gamemakers, the President, his advisor's, even his children. Everything about the Capitol and the way it worked disgusted him.

* * *

 **July 12th, 5 Days From The 53rd Annual Hunger Games**

 **9:00 AM, Training Centre, Floor 1**

* * *

Feliciano wasn't sure what to think of the Capitol people. They were really nice and gave him food, but they were still, regardless of whether they were his stylist, his prep team, or his escort, Capitol citizens with the task of preparing him to be butchered. Possibly not even figuratively. He'd had a dream the night before that the boy from Four with the cheery smile and strawberry blond hair had somehow managed to turn him into a cupcake. It wasn't possible in the arena, but he could still die. Would likely die, as one of the youngest tributes.

Feliciano knew that he was a fast runner, and good at hiding. He hid often from the people who ran the Training Centre back home in District One for the Career Tributes. He had been enrolled since he was ten, and he still hadn't gotten any better with most of the weapons. It was probably why no one had volunteered for him. Either he finally toughen up or die trying. Either way, it was one less hopeless pupil that wouldn't make the District proud.

At any rate, at least he was going to training. Maybe he would find an ally to hide behind, someone who wasn't likely to be in the Career Pack. The guy from Seven? Maybe, but he looked too much like his old friend…. The boy from Three looked nice, but he was shorter than Feliciano. That wouldn't help much in the long run. The guy from Eleven, the one with the same surname as him, looked a bit like him too…. Also, shorter. The boy from District 10 had volunteered, he didn't like him. The pretty girl from Eight seemed like a good choice.

And so, he walked into the Training area after eating breakfast with his fellow tribute, a girl named Lucille. She was pretty and sophisticated, but scary. He was a twig compared to her, and it scared him. Everyone was so much bigger it seemed.

* * *

 **July 12th, 5 Days From The 53rd Annual Hunger Games**

 **10:00 AM, Training Centre, Floor 7**

* * *

Ludwig wasn't sure what would happen when training started. He wasn't from a Career district with lots of training, but he was fit from working with an axe all day, and still young enough that he had no back problems from it like the people who had been doing it for decades. He was pretty sure that District Seven had one of the earliest average retirement age. It was too bad that they didn't get money to live on when they left because of medical issues after the first few months.

The trainer was a man named Allan. He had tanned skin and dark brown hair that stuck out in several directions. The boy from Four, Oliver, was making googly eyes at him. Ludwig just rolled his eyes, deciding that for a Career, he was a complete idiot. His eyes drifted to the other smallish career, the boy from One. He was practically shaking in his books. Well, that was good for Ludwig because the weaker the Career pack was, the stronger that he seemed. That was just the way it was.

They were dismissed to go to the stations to work on their skills and Ludwig went to the swords. The small boy from Three did as well. The pair from Two headed for the knives. The boy from Eleven made his way to the edible plants section. Ludwig watched him. If he was from District Eleven, he probably knew most of them.

The small boy from One, Feliciano, smiled at him a bit warily as he stepped over towards him. Ludwig assumed that despite his frail appearance and seemingly kind demeanour that he probably had some sort of training. He looked well-fed, probably aristocratic. And since he was raised in a Career district he had to have some kind of an ability. Otherwise why would they have thrown him to the wolves to die? Surely someone would volunteer for him.

After a bit, the boy from 11 made his way over to the two, a scowl on his face. He had clearly come here from the edible plants section and did not look happy. He picked up a sword and struck at one of the dummies that they set up for them with anger on his face. Ludwig glanced over at the girl from his district, who was politely chatting with the tributes from 10.

He turned back to Feliciano. The boy gave him an overly-enthusiastic grin considering where they were. He was struck by how similar to two oddly looked. Feliciano was paler and lighter, but he put it down to the difference in location and careers. Otherwise, they looked pretty alike. Same last name too. He shuddered.

He tried to find a difference between the two that was significant enough that the thought would entirely shut itself out of his mind. But the curls… the hairstyle… the colour almost…. Similar faces. With all of that in mind, the only thing that he could come of with that was true was that Feliciano was cute, smiled a lot and beamed at everything as if he wasn't in the games. While Lovino, the boy from Eleven, was clearly angrier, smiled only at his fellow district partner, and was…. Hell, he was handsome.

Ludwig wasn't sure what to make of that.

* * *

 **July 12th, 5 Days From The 53rd Annual Hunger Games**

 **1 PM, Training Centre, Lunch Room**

* * *

Gilbert was at least modestly pleased with what he had managed to do with a sword today. For someone who had never held one before, he was pretty awesome at it, he decided. The stupid assholes from 2 and 4 seemed to be better at it all. He glanced at the small blonde girl from 4. She was tiny, but he had noticed her skill with knives. She was vicious. He shuddered at the idea of being alone with her, defenseless. He tried to pretend to be arrogant, but even he knew that the Career could kill him in her sleep. And feel nothing.

He wasn't sure about Feliciano. He seemed oddly friendly, talking to several of the other tributes, though he oddly stirred clear of his fellow careers. When the pack got together at lunch time, he noticed that both of the smaller tributes stirred clear of it. Feliciano sat next to Ludwig and Lovino, while the girl sat by herself, glancing at the other tributes with a blank expression.

Gilbert was still in line to get food. He'd sort of lingered on joining because he didn't want to look pathetic, not knowing who to sit by. Normally, he would just sit alone, proclaim loudly that being alone was awesome and everyone else was losers anyway. Here, he wondered if they could tell just how pathetic and awkward he was, how he really had no chance.

He reached out for the spoon for the mashed potatoes that they had sitting out. Honestly, seeing something so familiar to district 5 amongst all of the fancy Capitol dishes made him feel a bit at home. The girl from 8 reached out at the same time, turning to glare at him and then at at a different food source nearby, as if she was fantasizing about killing him with the pan that it rested on, before the games even were to begin.

He smirked at her as he spooned some of the potatoes onto his plate victoriously. She seemed dangerous, but somehow he didn't mind being near her. He wasn't sure why until he realised that she actually was sort of pretty….

Well, fuck. The first person he actually ever finds attractive and she's plotting to kill him with a frying pan. And they're both going into the games. Dammit! Why couldn't he ever get a break!

He was still awesome. He could do this.


	10. Training Days 2-3 and Interviews

**July 16** **th** **, 1 Day From The 53** **rd** **Hunger Games**

 **3:00 PM, Training Centre Floor 11**

* * *

Lovino spent the next two days of training focusing on weapons. It wasn't like he needed any more help on finding edible food—he lived in District Eleven, he did it for a living. He also watched the other tributes carefully, especially Feliciano. The younger boy reminded him of himself somehow. He sort of looked like him too, and it freaked him out a small bit.

He kept an observant eye on the other tributes, especially the girl from ten. Isabel wanted to ally with the small girl, apparently, so he took it upon himself to watch her every move. He needed to make sure that she wouldn't kill Isabel in her sleep if they teamed up. Though he didn't really glean much from his observations, he decided that she seemed quiet and gentle, soft blond hair coating her fair face in pigtails, glasses resting on her nose.

The boy from her district was always hovering near her. She looked a bit annoyed about it. Lovino didn't remember much about the pair other than the fact that the boy had volunteered. Odd for an outlying, non-Career district.

Feliciano and the boy from Five tended to hang around the boy from Seven. The boy from Seven kind of intimidated Lovino. He seemed stern. The girl from his district stuck close to him as well. She looked young and fragile, very small.

The Careers were terrifying. The boy from Two wasn't very tall, but he looked terrifying, with a wide, mischievous grin and a knack for knives, he seemed deadly. His district partner, a girl with light blond, almost white hair, rivalled his skill. Feliciano was a dwarf compared to them, though taller than Lovino himself by a small amount. Lovino was uncertain how he had managed to be allowed to participate. District One was filled with volunteers. It was hard to believe to Lovino that no one considered volunteering for someone who didn't have a chance. Either Feliciano was faking it or his District hated him.

The tributes from Four weren't much to look at despite being Careers. Unlike Feliciano, the boy tribute, named Oliver, did sit with the other Careers at lunch the three days of training, but he seemed gentle and polite. He even scolded the boy from Two for cursing! The girl stayed away from the Career table completely. She was small, the smallest of the bunch. Lovino figured that was probably a good idea.

Lovino had paid close attention that final night of training to the scores that were announced, based off their private sessions. The girl from One scored a seven, a bit low for a Career, though Feliciano's four made it look glamourous. The pair from Two scored tens, while the small boy from 3, Kiku, got a 7. Lovino wasn't sure how he pulled off that one, though he was more surprised at the 8 given to the boy from Four. So the polite boy did have some uses. His partner scored a three, much too small to be considered a threat. The boy from Five got a 6 while the boy from Six scored an 8.

From Seven, the small girl received a meagre two. Her much more intimidating partner received a 9. Lovino assumed that he just threw axes around with those muscular arms of his. The girl from 8 received a nice score of 9. The boy from Ten got a 8; the girl only a 5.

Isabel's face flashed across the screen, followed by a 7. Lovino was impressed, but knew that his own score would never match that. He wasn't strong. He was resourceful, smart, but not brave. He was clumsy. Sure enough, a four followed his picture.

Antonio gave him a sympathetic glance, though he could tell very well that Antonio was already betting on his death—well, technically stylist weren't allowed to place bets, but he didn't blame him if he did. He didn't blame him in the slightest. He was still a Bastard, though. That wasn't going to change.

The day after that was just as bad. Constant fake conversations with his mentor to prepare him for his 3 minute long interview with Feliks Łukasiewicz, constantly being told that the way he was answering was too crass and crude for a smaller, less intimidating tribute. He wouldn't be able to pull off the snark. Well, too fucking bad. It wasn't like he had a chance at winning. Manon helped him a bit on posture and presentation, which was actually much less torturous.

However, he was still nervous as the group of twenty four mounted the stage and took their spots in the half-circle around Feliks and the spot designated for the person he was talking to, currently the girl from One, a pretty girl who was rather flirty, and a bit pretentious. However, also a bit polite. Her hair was pulled into a bun, a crown made of gold and onyx crown resting on her head. It was clear her stylist was already declaring her victor.

Feliciano was next. He smiled widely and took a seat next to Feliks. It was clear that his stylist had much less faith in him, though legally he was restricted from betting. He wore a plain blue suit, void of all embellished jewels or fashion statements. Not really something one normally saw from District One. Feliciano waved to the crowd with a small laugh, though Lovino could see a flash of fear in his eyes. He knew the boy wasn't stupid.

Lovino found himself playing close attention. Just like in the reaping, the last name Vargas confused him. There was no possible way that two tributes from two completely different districts had the same last name. Virtually impossible. Feliciano _did_ look like him, however.

"So, Feliciano. You're one of the youngest tributes from District One, like, maybe ever. Are you ready for the games?"

Feliciano stumbled over his words, as if unsure how to answer that without maybe him sound like a baby who wouldn't survive the bloodbath. "Y-es, I…well… No, but I'm really fast! A-and I'm going to do really good." He looked nervous, as if he wasn't sure how well he'd answered it. He'd probably been coached on answering these questions without looking like someone who had no chance. Lovino's heart hurt.

Feliciano was asked a few more questions before the buzzer went off—Lovino learned about his sister—and the girl from 2, announced as Natalya Arlovski , **(1)** stepped forward. She was reserved, but dark, the words coming out of her mouth gloomy and dangerous. Apparently, she had one older brother who died a few years back and had volunteered to make him proud. Luciano, well he just seemed off his rocker, completely nuts.

The girl from three was sweet and giggly, and very pretty and feminine. A tad bit obnoxious, but not in a bad way. Besides, everyone knew that Feliks was much, much, much more so, as well as arrogant and vain. For half of their interview it was her talking about her cousin's wedding, but somehow it became a topic about pets. Apparently Feliks was a pony person and the girl, Michelle, had three small fish. Lovino rolled his eyes, relieved when it was the boy's turn.

Kiku didn't seem to impress the audience much. He was quiet, and subtly answered the questions asked of him without actually doing so using as little words as possible. He revealed nothing, but made no real impression. Too small, too vague, too calm, too wily to possibly win, Lovino could already see it in the rich folk's eyes. What idiots. This kid got a seven. He had to have some ability. Somehow. Lovino wasn't sure what it was.

The tributes from four continued to be sort of boring to him, though Oliver seemed to get the audience's favour by complaining about the manners of the other tributes. Of course he did. Pretentious manners were the only morals that the idiots from the Capitol believed in. Killing children and dissidents were something to be celebrated, but god forbid anyone be "rude."

The girl from five had a headstrong personality, he could say that much. She apparently had a cousin that she liked to debate with. Lovino wasn't trying to pay attention to the interviews by that point. He got jolted awake by the one from the boy from Five, an alarming, egotistical, confident tribute with bright red eyes and a mischievous smirk. Feliks asked him if he was planning to win and he referred to himself as awesome. How stupid. Like he really had a chance of winning, a boy from outlying District Five.

Well, Feliks was blown away by the cockiness of the boy, it seemed. The interviewer looked almost pleased that someone here had guts. Lovino rolled his eyes as the tributes continued. The girl from six was silent, but Lovino figured that she could get away with it with her height and stern features.

Meanwhile, her district partner was a bit interesting, wild blond hair in every direction, even a bit spiky. When asked about whether or not he had a special someone at home, he said no… But… The way he listed off his family members names when asked about them made Lovino think otherwise. The way he spoke about this "Lukas" just didn't sound much like family. He swore he wasn't paying that much attention to notice the slip, no way.

Other than that, the boy from Six seemed almost mischievous, a bit of a party animal. When the small, timid, gentle girl from Seven took the stage, Lovino was stunned silent. He found it hard to believe that she was sixteen, older than himself. She barely looked old enough to be in the Games. Though, if the Games were run the way that Lovino wanted them run no one would ever be old enough. The Games were a sham. They weren't to punish the Districts for a former rebellion 50 years ago at all, they were to divide the Districts so they would never unify ever again.

That was why some Districts like 1,2, and 4 were given preferential treatment, why the Capitol turned a blind eye to the illegality of training tributes before they reach the Capitol, a policy the Capitol themselves instituted to make it fair. This was why Districts 10, 11, and 12 were the poorest. Even within 11, there was hatred towards the well-to-do merchants who didn't have to work the fields and take out tesserae.

The Districts couldn't unify when the remaining twelve were thrown at each other in competitions, when rich people got the better of the deals. Not when children's lives were at stake. The rules were simple. Twenty-four children went in, one came out. The winning district would be reunited with their brave survivor and every family in the winning district given a free food package for a month. It was disgusting.

The buzzer went off, and Lovino found himself looking over to the boy from Seven, tall with blond hair that his stylist slicked back for him. Honestly, he kind of preferred him like this than when his hair was down during training. It looked more right on him. And honestly, made him look even more terrifying. The boy—man—was wearing a green suit, a firm look on his face, poised, determined, confident, and emotionless. _Ludwig Beitel_ , his mind supplied.

Even Feliks looked intimidated. "So, like, um…. Do you intend to win?" His discomposure was obvious, and Lovino was uncertain why in the hell he had received this job in the first place… though the sass he had seen him show the announcer was maybe part of it. Along with his clear flamboyancy, the literal embodiment of the mindless Capitolian society. Actually, come to think of it, yeah. Lovino did know why he received this job. He was a big mindless drone, like the rest of this city.

Ludwig seemed unimpressed. "I do intend to win." He agreed cooly. "The other option is death." He said it so matter-of-factly, Lovino couldn't tell if the latter part was a try at dry humour or seriousness that was unintentionally sarcastic.

Feliks and his tiny brain rolled his eyes. "Well, death really isn't fashionable, anyway." This, Lovino was pretty sure was seriousness. Feliks was stupid. Just because he was stupid. Lovino wasn't sure if it was the dumb job that made him look stupid either, though maybe. "Anyway, any special people at home?"

It was clear that the question was an invasive question wanting to know about his love life, and while Lovino had been told multiple times it was so Feliks could help the tributes out a bit if they looked pitiful, a sob story about a hopeful lover or sibling or whoever back at home, but he only asked male tributes this. Clearly, he just wanted to know which of the virgins who were all about to die were wanting to give it up for him tonight. Obviously. Because Lovino is a fucking mind reader. Duh.

Ludwig either didn't have anyone special, or was just smart enough not to take the bait. "No, no one special. Just my grandfather." The rest of the interview continued on until the buzzer went off, though Lovino hardly noticed it.

The girl from Eight stepped onto the stage. Elizabeta. She seemed nice, but composed. She played Feliks game well, answering his questions how he probably wanted them answered, but also humbling his down from his stupid high pony. She remarked on how she thought the boy from Five was flirting with her the first day of training and she almost whacked him. Gilbert, at least, seemed to find it amusing. Feliks asked her to say hello to her family back at home and she humoured him, actually doing so. Lovino was a bit impressed.

The next one to go up was a young male, Toris. He stuttered through his entire interview, but if Lovino had to pick of the idiots here to be Feliks' pick of which virgin to fuck, it was this one. Not for any particular reason, just because. And no, Lovino was not coming up with reasons to hate this idiot just because he was interviewing him!

He zoned out of the next two interviews, the tributes from Nine. All he heard was some rude spectator making a joke about the girl's endowments and Feliks sassing him. The boy went on about some cute pillow he was given. Or something. Lovino wasn't paying any attention. Like, at all.

It was almost his turn and he was doing anything to ignore that fact. His head turned to Feliciano slightly, catching his eye. Lovino looked in the direction of Feliks and stuck his tongue out a bit in a rude manner. The cameras weren't on him, right now anyway. Feliciano and the girl from his district seemed amused. See, he wasn't the only one bored of this dumb thing. Isabel rolled her eyes. "Lovi… stop it. You're going to embarrass yourself."

Lovino's plan to ignore the last few interviews failed when the boy from Ten took the stage. He was loud, obnoxious, annoying, and loud. He made Feliks look smart! Though that might be because it was revealed that this kid lived with a former victor.

And another reason was clear to him when Feliks asked the idiot the final question. "So.. you volunteered. Why?"

"Well, I wanted to be a hero!" He said. Lovino was unsure what this was supposed to mean. The boy, Alfred, gave a chuckle that sounded almost forced and added. "And glory and bravery is very heroic to me!" The girl from Alfred's district smiled a bit and they exchanged glances. Lovino was a bit confused. Killing people for glory is heroic? He almost made the mistake of muttering it out loud. He'll save the snark for his actual interview.

Isabel was next. She was kind, sweet, and flattering. He knew she would be. She was always so open and friendly. He glanced at the people in the crowd. They had to be getting tired of all these interviews with sweet gentle girls, stuttering, nervous boys, and brutes who were all either stern, idiotic, or assholes. No one could really be all that interesting to the rich people in the audience, looking for someone to sponsor. Could they?

The buzzer went off and Lovino got ready to do his interview. He fashioned his face into a stony look, but with a slight frown. He wouldn't give Feliks the satisfaction. "So, are you, like, prepared for the games? Do you intend to win?"

They were such stupid questions that the boy just smirked. "Nope, I intend to die in the bloodbath. So much fucking fun!" He let his voice drip with dry sarcasm. The other tributes were either getting a kick out of it or keeping their expressions emotionless. The audience was beside themselves as well. Lovino looked at them a bit, wondering what they were thinking.

"Whoa, now! Someone needs to just chill!" Feliks said. Lovino wondered if he hurt his little feelings. Whatever. Dumbass. Asking stupid questions and shit. Alright, alright. Anyway… anyone special at home? Or anyone who you would like to say hello to?"

"Yeah, I'd like to tell my cat that it's the only thing I'll miss. Wait…. Fuck that. I forgot. I don't even have a cat." He winked at Feliciano, who smiled slightly. Feliks sighed and asked him more questions, to which he just got more and more sardonic with his answers.

Lovino just smirked as the buzzer went off.

Feliks wondered as he walked away how a small boy from Eleven had so much personality...

* * *

 **1\. Arlovski is the male form of the surname Arlovskaya. Because the country of Belarus does not exist anymore in Pamen-era, her surname would be Arlovski, not Arlovskaya, by American surname traditions, because Panem follows the American surname traditions. Technically, earlier in the story when they called out Czech's name it should have been something like "Novotn** **ý** **" because of the whole Panem thing for this same reason, but I'm not going back to fix it.**

 **2\. Hmm… I wonder who will win? Maybe Lovi ….. maybe it's Ludwig or Feliciano or Alfred….. duh duh duh… or maybe it's none of the above..**

 **3\. I mean no disrespect to Poland and stupidity! Lovino is just a condescending ass!**

 **4\. Sorry if you wanted an "everyone" point of view for this one, but it was just easier to do all through Lovino's point of view.**


	11. Cattle For The Slaughter

_**Warning: Shameless implied LietPol smut that has no relevance to the plot of this story in the slightest and only in the story for fan service. Not graphic, but mentioned. However, there is actual plot in this chapter, so don't skip this chapter, please!**_

* * *

 **July 17th, 4 hours from the 53rd Reaping**

 **6:00 AM, Traning Centre Floor 8**

* * *

Elizabeta was nervous, but the noises that she was hearing one room to her left—Toris's room—were a bit calming. She remained optimistic that at least one of them was happy. Alright, and maybe the fact that he had done the nasty with Feliks—and expected her not to find out somehow—was amazing teasing material—assuming she got the chance before they were herded off like cattle for a slaughter.

It wasn't like she was trying to be perverted, she just couldn't sleep for reasons that she figured were rather justified. He just happened to be incredibly loud. Plus, Feliks was incredibly loud. And her bed was right against the wall separating the two rooms.

Judging by the feet stomping one floor above them, the male from 9, Yao, was not as impressed or as calm as Elizabeta was. One floor below herself, she could hear Ludwig mumbling in distaste with the girl from District 7's soft trembling voice mixed with it. She had never realised for the week she was here just how thin the walls were. Odd. She would have thought that they would have sound proofing.

Though, that doesn't explain why no one came to see what she was doing the other day when she was throwing frying pans she found in the floor's dining hall after one of their training days. Not that that happened.

* * *

 **July 17** **th** **, 3 hours from the 53rd** **Reaping**

 **7: 00 AM, Training Centre Floor 7**

* * *

Ludwig had actually fallen asleep. Odd. He honestly hadn't thought he would be able to, but the next thing he knew after he'd headed to his room after the interviews—he wasn't all the much of a night owl—was a loud thump waking him up. He didn't remember much of the dream he'd had, maybe a glimpse of a brown hair with an odd curl. It made no sense and left him a bit disoriented for a few minutes. After a few seconds, he realised something. Ayleen was in his bed, though it shouldn't have fazed him by then. Ludwig had become a heavy sleeper and the young blond girl got nightmares often enough that this was standard behaviour. Besides, he should have expected it with all things considered.

He started yelling up when he figured out where the sounds were coming from. He had overheard Lovino making a snide comment to Isobel after the Interviews that the two would probably hook up, but frankly Ludwig had found the comment to be inappropriate. So had Isobel. He should have listened to Lovino and asked the servants to find him some ear plugs.

Ayleen said nothing, just that it was nice that Toris had found a friend, while Ludwig wondered if it was even legal for Feliks to be this unprofessional with a tribute. Laws probably didn't even apply to Capitol people.

He opened the door to his room about an hour and a half after he'd originally woken up, deciding that he and Ayleen may as well find some breakfast before their stylists got there to separate the two forever. Below the floor, he could hear the sounds of the boy from 6 begging his own stylist to let him sleep a few more minutes. Ludwig really hoped that they got the sound issues in this place fixed for future tributes.

* * *

 **July 17** **th** **, 2 hours from the 53rd** **Reaping**

 **8: 00 AM, Training Centre Floor 1**

* * *

Feliciano had a rough night. While he was a light sleeper, normally he made up for it for his ability to fall asleep as soon as his head hit his pillow. And it didn't even have to be his pillow. However, last night he'd had almost none.

Usually on nights like this he slept with Feliciana but she wasn't there. Lucille was terrifying, even though she was polite to him. It went without saying that he ended up tossing and turning the whole night.

Now, being ushered onto the hobercraft by his stylist, he was frightened. Not that he wasn't already, but before that he could pretend at times that he was just called to the Capitol because President Anya Braginsky **(1)** was giving him a lifetime supply of pasta. There would be no time for denial during the actual Games, and that scared him more than anything.

In his dreams during the time he actually managed to sleep his subconscious drifted to the boy from 2. In his dream, Luciano was cooking him into a pasta dish. When he recounted the dream to his stylist, she gave him a pitiful look, as if she knew that he wouldn't make it. Feliciano wanted to think that maybe she felt even a little guilty about prettying him up for well, slaughter.

* * *

 **July 17** **th** **, 1 hour from the 53rd** **Reaping**

 **9: 00 AM, Training Centre Floor 11**

* * *

Lovino was really glad that Antonio, **Lars, Chiara** **(2)** and Manon were actually smart. Well, at least one of them. It was probably Chiara. She seemed the most like him from what he could tell and was from district Eleven, so duh. It went without saying. Besides, Bastard couldn't find his way out of a tomato box if it fell on him.

Lovino had been rudely woken up—not that he'd had very good sleep anyway—by Alfred a floor below screaming at Yao on Floor Nine, who was going on about indecency and being quiet, apparently, to whoever was on Floor Eight. He doubted it was Elizabeta. Once his tired mind figured out what was going on, he couldn't believe it. No, not that Feliks had crawled in bed with the boy from Eight, but because everyone could hear each other but the mentors and other people weren't doing anything about it.

Lovino had a suspicion that the Capitol this year was experimenting by purposing turning off the soundproof benefits that the tributes rooms had to make them less alert during the Games. Why he thought this? **(3)** Well, for starters, he hadn't heard a peep out of the other tributes any of the other days, and Bastard was still asleep when he went to complain to him about being woken up at 5 AM. Though to be fair, Isobel slept through it all as well. Chiara and Manon quickly gave him a pair of ear plugs and he went back to bed. He was relieved that they were still there, having not yet left for the Headquarters.

When Antonio woke him up a few hours later it was in a panicked frenzy because both had slept in late. He quickly handed him a tomato from the kitchen before ushering him out onto the roof to catch the flight that would take him to the arena. Antonio was the one who was to escort him there now that Manon and Chiara had left for the Headquarters to clinch him more sponsors.

After making sure Lovino got hydrated and had plenty of more tomatoes, he was practically shoved into the outfit that he had to wear for the Games. Everyone had to wear the same outfit, a feat that Lovino hated. He hated the idea of looking like all the bastards trying to kill them, but of course all of them were slaves. Why should they have any sense of individuality? God forbid, they might throw themselves from their pedestals before their 60 seconds is up if they had that, or at the very least remember they are citizens, not sheep.

* * *

 **10:00 AM, The 53rd Hunger Games**

 **Launching Room, Gilbert Beilschmidt**

* * *

Gilbert glanced around the room. He was the only tribute who was ever to use it. It was referred to as the Launch Room, though the districts called it the Stockyard, like where cattle went before they were killed—because that's what they were, cattle being prepared for slaughter. The Launch Room was built in the catacombs of the individual arenas, and each tribute got their own. Once an arena was used, they made 24 new ones for the newest arena. Honestly, Gilbert didn't mind. It would be a bad omen if this particular Launch Room belonged to only deceased tributes.

He could only hope that whatever tributes were on his left and right were people who would leave him alone long enough for him to run. Not that he couldn't take them on, he tried to assure himself. He shook off the dream he'd had the night before about the small girl from Four. There was no way that the small thing could do anything to him. It was only nerves.

His stylists gestured for him to step onto the tube that would shoot him into the arena. It was time. He stepped forward, resolving to remove all emotion from his face. He wasn't a sheep being to his slaughter now. He couldn't afford to be one. He was one of those big cats in the forest, eating his prey to win. No, he wasn't going to eat anyone he fought. Ew.

On his left was the quivering boy from One, the girl from 9 on the right. The girl from 8 was a few people down from him along with his own district partner. Gilbert thought about Milada for a few seconds before the voice of the announcer broke through. "Ladies and Gentlemen, Welcome To The 53rd Annual Hunger Games!"

* * *

 **1\. The president during our Games is Nyo! Russia. Surname is the masculine version for the same reason as Belarus's. I use the Russian Braginsky over the Polish Braginski for very obvious reasons~**

 **2\. I think I said in one chapter that Netherlands was Belgium's brother and Chiara was Isobel's stylist and then in another chapter Lars became Isobel's stylist? Okay, Chiara for now on is their mentor, Manon is the escort, Antonio is the male tribute's stylist, and Lars is the female tribute's stylist and also Manon's brother.**

 **3\. They stopped this practice before the 74th games. Okay? Okay.** _ **Arsinoë/Milky O. Awesomeway did not purposely put this headcanon in her story just for LietPol smut. Nope. This is a perfectly logical expla—oh fuck it. Please read the A/N at the top for more details.**_

 **4\. Don't you just love filler chapters? Honestly, I wasn't sure how to make an entire chapter of Lovino talking to Antonio on a hovercraft worth anyone's time and I wanted it to end on the gong and of course I was thinking on a whim to expand on the LietPol reference—pure fan service if there ever was any— from last chapter.**

 **5\. Enough talking. Who do you think will win? POLL ON MY PROFILEEEEEEEEE**


	12. Allies

**July 17th, 10:00 AM, First Morning of The 53rd Reaping**

 **The Blood Bath, Lovino Vargas**

* * *

Lovino blinked his eyes in an attempt to lessen the visible fear on his face, standing up straight to look more imposing as he counted down to sixty in his head in the seconds following the announcer's voice. If he stepped off his plate before the gong then he would be blown the golden to bits. The minute was clearly given to tributes to allow them to form a strategy, but cornucopia resting inside of the circle of tributes filled with supplies and weapons was a luring danger, compelling them to stay.

Lovino decided to run instead, deciding not to be fooled. It wasn't worth it. He wasn't skilled enough to go in blindly. He'd last much longer using his knowledge about edible plants then attempting to risk his life getting supplies he didn't necessarily need. At least he was from District Eleven. Most of the other people around him didn't have the skills for scavenging. That would benefit him greatly.

Lovino decided to spend the rest of his last minute of respite to survey his surroundings. If his shivering was anything to go by, the climate was much colder than he was used to. District Eleven was comparably more southern than many of the other districts, though. He glanced away from the cornucopia to observe the arena itself. There was a forest off on one side of the arena, to his right. On his left, there was a group of boulders scattered around, the size growing larger the further out they went until they formed a collection of mountainous ranges. Lovino figured that it would be a wonderful hiding place to some, but for him…. It wouldn't do him much good.

He looked at the two people on either side of him. The girl from 9 with the large bosoms and the boy from 10, Alfred. He found himself relieved that he didn't have a Career too close to him. That would be bad, especially if it were Luciano or Natalya. They seemed to be the most dangerous of the bunch.

He figured that he probably had only a few seconds left before the gong was supposed to ring out. He attempted to settle any remaining nerves that he may be feeling. Now wasn't the time for them. He couldn't afford to look scared now. As the gong ran out, he jumped off of his metal plate and started running, determined to escape from the ensuing chaos that he knew would happen from all the previous Games he'd had to see.

If he survived the Bloodbath, he knew that he suddenly had a much higher chance to survive the Games in general. His odds would increase, whatever they were. _May the odds be ever in your favour, my ass,_ he thought.

The gong went off in the background, signalling what may very well be the last few days of his life. He jumped off his plate and sped off, running as quickly as he could in the direction of the trees, only to run straight into another tribute. He cursed loudly as he fell to the ground, his back crashing into the hard ground.

He glanced up at the tribute responsible, catching the blond hair and piercing blue eyes. He glared at him as he attempted to get up. He noticed that the other male already had a spear **(1)** in one hand and a bag over his shoulder. Well, he may as well die like the spitfire he was. "Watch where you're going you damn potato bastard!" He yelled at Ludwig as he got back to his feet, wondering where the fuck "potato bastard" had come from. Not important, he decided.

"It seems like you're the one who ran into me." Ludwig said, confusion seeming to be displayed on his mostly apathetic face. Ludwig looked Lovino up and down, clearly examining him for weapons. He frowned.

"Whatever," Lovino replied with a scowl as he brushed non-existent dust off of his pants to break the contact. He glanced over at where Feliciano was standing, chatting with the boy from Five over a body that seemed to be Milada, the girl from Five. Gilbert looked a bit distantly at the body before turning to answer the boy from One. Lovino's gaze reluctantly drifted back to Ludwig. "May as well be allies, dammit. Just stop looking at me like that you damn pervert."

Ludwig's eyebrows furrowed, apparently confused by either the offer or the accusation, Lovino didn't care which. "What? All right. Where did you want to—" Lovino stormed off to the forest before he could finish answering the question, not bothering to see if his new ally was actually following him.

Lovino glanced around the forest, using the skills he had picked up in District Eleven to guide him. He couldn't hear Ludwig's heavy build stomping behind him, but he could hear his presence. At least he apparently had an oddly quiet tread. That would come in handy.

He managed to make it to a large clearing within the deep forest, with a large boulder that would be easy to climb. The shape of the boulder allowed the climber to stand on top of it, their lower half hidden, as if it was a guarded wall such as the one back home.

Ludwig opened his mouth to say something, only to quickly close it with a frown as loud stomping noises filled the clearing. Ludwig quickly spun, angling his spear towards where the noise was coming from. Lovino quickly hid behind him, sputtering like the very coward he had sworn less than twenty minutes beforehand that he wouldn't be. **(2)**

He felt stupid when it ended up being just Gilbert and Feliciano and not someone really threatening like Luciano or someone like that. Frankly, he wasn't scared of either of the Unawesome Bastard or Feliciano, even though Gilbert had a sword on his waist. He bravely stepped away from Ludwig's back, blushing madly while cursing himself.

Feliciano ran over and through his arms first around Ludwig and then around Lovino, both of whom tensed. Apparently, someone had decided that they were his new friends. How naïve. Well, whatever. Lovino ignored the ache that he felt when he realised that Feliciano wasn't all that cut out for this game.

"Why the hell did you decide to take that dumbass with you?" Lovino chided Feliciano, scowling at Gilbert. The less allies he had the better. He definitely didn't need both Feliciano and Gilbert as well as the potato bastard. Seriously, he needed to come up with a better nickname that at least makes sense. Oh, whatever. They'd all be dead in three days anyway. That shouldn't matter at this point.

Feliciano started to talk incredibly fast. Lovino wasn't even if he stopped to breath. "I was running away from Luciano and then Gilbert starting crying over his partner—"

"I wasn't crying! Don't tell them those lies, North!" Gilbert said, using an apparent nonsensical nickname of his own.

"And then we agreed to be allies and started running and Gilbert tripped over someone's body –"

"Lying is unawesome! I'll tell the story myself!"

"Please don't. I have enough to worry about other than your entire journey." Ludwig said before Gilbert could relay his side of the story and before Lovino could interrupt with curse words and insults geared at one or both of the newcomers. "We should divide whatever supplies we received from the cornucopia and set up watch schedules."

The other three looked at each other and shrugged, deciding that they may as well do as Ludwig had said. None of them had any plans of their own, anyway. Ludwig and Gilbert through the two bags that they had thought to grab down on the floor and opened them, revealing crackers, jerky, a few water bottles, iodine to purify the arena water, packs of dry fruit, and a decent sized loaf of bread. They also had a small first aid kit that had gauze and even thread for stitches. 7 cannons were fired off, during this time signalling the deaths of 7 people in the arena. Only 17 left standing. They only stopped for a few moments to wonder who it was before sorting through the first aid kit. Since it seemed that Gilbert seemed prone to not-tripping Lovino snidely told Ludwig to let him keep every in the first aid kit. Ludwig sighed before shrugging. He set aside a few gauzes for him, Lovino, and Feliciano and handed the rest to a sputtering, glowering Gilbert. Lovino smirked at him behind Ludwig's back.

Gilbert thought he caught movement behind the giant rock. He frowned, suspiciously and excused himself to see what it was, pulling his spear out just in case, letting the others go ahead and believe he just didn't like to be teased. Not that there was anything to tease about.

* * *

 ***dramtatic cliffhangery music in the back ground* lol, no but seriously.**

 ***goes off to write updates for The Dying Ember and The Captive's Game on Fictionpress. For those of you lovers of "I'm Starting To Think You Don't Mean That" I'm working on it still. Will be done, hopefully, by the end of March, possibly mid-Febuary. I'm typing the main list for England atm and I'm at 51 of 100. So there's that.**

 **I'm also trying to get through chapters for this following stuff:**

 **Milky O Awesomeway (I'm working on chapter 52 out of 100)**

 **Not In Our Favour**

 **Gold Turns To Crimson**

 **And I'm working on both the sequel to Burning Secrets and a long shot for dark!Prumano (I've been working on the long shot for a year and a half roughly, luckily I've finally gotten near the end, whoo!**

 **Oh, I'm also working on a playlist for my original stories and backstories for the Fifteen of The Dying Ember (I've gotten through almost half of the list, working on Zuko's now)**

 **Wish me luck trying to find the time to do all of that and do classwork for my second semester of college, especially once TWD comes back on in three weeks. Bleh.**


End file.
